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Ashes can also be shot into space, floated out to sea in a model ship or even encased in concrete and turned into part of a man-made reef off the Dorset coast — a scheme created by Dorset Council for families to encase their loved ones’ ashes in concrete ‘bereavement balls’ and added to the reef, providing a home for marine wildlife.

When John died in 2011, aged 64, following a long battle with throat and liver cancer, Glynis spent months wondering what to do with his ashes.

‘Although we had been married for 42 years, we never discussed in detail what we wanted if either of us should die,’ she says. ‘His ashes sat by the side of my bed for 18 months, while I struggled with my grief.

Glynis with husband John. Despite beiing married for 42 years she says they never discussed in detail what they would do if one of them died.

‘I eventually decided to scatter them under the willow tree in our garden, but then I remembered a friend of mine who’d told me she planned to have her husband’s ashes turned into a diamond if anything happened to him.

‘I liked the idea I could take a little piece of John with me wherever I went. After months of research, I contacted Phoenix Memorial Diamonds in Manchester and ordered a .75 carat canary yellow gem. All I needed to do was send off 100g of John’s ashes by recorded post, and pay a deposit of £2,500.’

Turning ashes into a diamond is fairly straightforward, as both are comprised of the same substance: the element carbon (the human body is 18 per cent carbon, and the rest is mostly water).

Natural diamonds are formed underground when carbon is put exposed to huge amounts of heat and pressure. Laboratory-grown diamonds are made by creating the same forces artificially.

Glynis says her friends always admire the £5,000 yellow diamond she had made out of John's ashes

First, the ashes are heated to 1,300c until they become molten, then they are compressed at 10,000 tons per square inch for several weeks until they form a diamond crystal, which is chemically indistinguishable from a natural stone.

Because the chemical make-up of each person’s ashes is unique, so is the size, clarity and precise colour of the stone that emerges. However, the natural colour of diamonds made from human ash is broadly canary yellow due to the nitrogen content in the ashes.

These yellow laboratory diamonds sell for about £6,500 per carat — around 40 per cent less than the equivalent natural diamond, which costs more because it takes thousands of years to form, is scarce and has to be mined. Once the diamond crystal has been formed, it is cut and polished in the same way as a natural diamond would be.

Glynis waited 12 weeks for her diamond to be delivered.

‘My youngest son Robert, 29, who works in finance, was incredibly suspicious of the whole process and insisted on being there when the diamond was delivered,’ she says.

‘He drove the courier to our local jeweller to have the gem tested before he’d let me pay the balance.’

Glynis is now hoping to get her diamond set into a ring, and plans to leave it to her daughter Lucie, 31, in her will.

‘John would have laughed at my extravagance, as I am pretty frugal by nature, but I feel it’s an important, lasting and very personal tribute to my beloved husband.’

Cremation expert Richard Martin says that memorialising a loved one — whether that means having some of their ashes made into a paperweight or even decanted into cartridges and fired from a shotgun — can be incredibly cathartic.

‘All that matters is that you feel you have chosen a fitting resolution for that person, your family and friends,’ he says.

Sue White in her garden with the £645 sculpture that contains her late husband Bruce's ashes

Not all ‘cremorials’ are as subtle as Glynis’s diamond. When visitors step into Sue White’s manicured garden, the first thing they comment on is the striking modern sculpture, in the shape of a closed flower bud, rising from her rockery.

‘Of course, they’re a little taken aback when I tell them: “That’s Bruce — my late husband”,’ says Sue, 60, a company director from Ascot, Berkshire.

Bruce, who ran a successful record label, was 68 when he died peacefully at home in November 2011 from lung cancer with Sue, son Julian, now 44, and daughter Natalie, 40, by his side.

Once his funeral was over, Sue was at a loss as to what to do with his remains.

‘It was just too difficult to talk about once he became ill,’ says Sue. ‘The ashes were handed over to us a few days afterwards in an ugly plastic jar. I found it so painful to look at, I hid it in the garage for more than a year.’

A year on, Sue and Natalie decided to scatter some of the ashes in the garden of the family’s holiday home in Spain.

‘We thought about scattering the rest around our garden in England, but I quickly realised that if I ever moved house, it would mean leaving Bruce behind for good,’ says Sue.

‘After searching online, we decided on a memorial ornament instead — something that would be a tangible reminder of Bruce but portable, too. We bought it online from a specialist company called Scattering Ashes for £645 and had a small plaque made for it with Bruce’s name on.

‘It has an internal sphere that Natalie and I carefully opened and decanted the ashes into at the kitchen table.

‘I thought I would find that hard to do, but it was actually very cathartic. Now, every time I pop out to snip a few herbs for my cooking, I see the sculpture and feel connected to Bruce.

‘I sometimes wonder if he would be happy with what I’ve done — but I love the sculpture, and I’m sure he would be glad about that.’

Heidi Lewis, 42, with mum Pat whose last wish was that her family would have a party celebrating her life and send her ashes up in fireworks

Increasingly, people are leaving instructions in their wills about how they would like their ashes used.

Heidi Lewis’s mother, Patricia Mitchell, 73, a retired market researcher, was very clear about what she wanted before she passed away from long-standing health problems on April 25.

‘Mum told me in no uncertain terms that she did not want a religious funeral, nor should anyone attend the crematorium,’ says Heidi, a 42-year-old student nurse and mother to Henry, 19, Stanley, 12, and Arney, nine, from Woking in Surrey.

Heidi says she couldn't think of a better send off for her late mother

‘Instead, she left £6,000 from a funeral savings plan for us to throw a big party to celebrate her life.

‘She said she wanted to have her ashes sent up in a firework display over Eel Pie Island, in the middle of the Thames at Twickenham. It’s the site of a famous jazz club that she used to love going to in the Sixties.

‘My sisters Lyndsay, Madeleine and I desperately wanted to hold the wake on her birthday, May 9,’ says Heidi. ‘It was all a bit of a rush, but we managed to courier some of Mum’s ashes to Heavenly Stars fireworks in Colchester, Essex.

‘They transferred around an egg cup-full into a large firework — a complete display in one package — at a cost of £249.

‘We organised a big group of family and friends to meet in a local pub, and then walk, accompanied by a New Orleans-style jazz band, to the Twickenham rowing club.

‘There were eulogies and poetry readings then, as it started to get dark, my eldest son lit the fuse on the firework display.

‘There were two minutes of spectacular flashes, bangs and colours as the fireworks scattered Mum’s ashes over the island she loved.

‘As the fireworks came to an end everyone cheered, clapped, whistled and yes, shed a few tears.